Wish Hunter (The Savannah River Series Book 1)

by Hero Bowen

  Nadia’s eyes widened in feigned ignorance. “I’m not. I’m curious, that’s all. Like, how many people have tried this before? How many times have you had one of your people here without any of us knowing? What’s the harm in telling me—it’s not like I can go back in time and forewarn anyone. If I could do that, I’d go back to Bonaventure and save myself.”

  Kaleena shrugged. “A couple of mommy dearest’s boy toys were mine, but she’d always offer them drinks infused with wishing bark. If they didn’t drink, she sent them packing.” She snorted. “That one acts like an airhead, but she’s a fox in more ways than one.”

  “That one”? You mean our mom. Even after being on the receiving end of her own family scrap, Nadia still couldn’t understand how someone could just detach from everything they’d ever known.

  “I’m not saying anything against her charms, but I always wondered where she found so many young guys. Makes sense that some of them were working for you,” Nadia conceded, reading a flicker of bitterness on Kaleena’s face.

  “She’s an attention whore who cares only about herself,” Kaleena spat. “She made it easy to get spies in there, and I pity the poor bastards who drank what she was serving up. But she’s as tight-lipped as Basha, even after her daily pitcher of margaritas.”

  Val stifled a snort and turned her amused gaze out the window, her wide shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Nadia scowled. Sure, her family wasn’t perfect, but whose was? Miles wisely stayed quiet.

  “Look, I’m not trying to burst your bubble,” Nadia said, “but I still don’t think it’s going to work. They’re not going to invite me in. Even if Mom wanted to, Babcia won’t allow it. She wants nothing to do with me.”

  Kaleena’s eyes narrowed. “Is that really what you’re worried about, or are you trying to backpedal because you don’t want to act out against Basha? Let’s not forget, her lies about her debt are why you’re here. You don’t owe her anything, but you do owe me.”

  The car accident—that massive blip in Nadia’s memory. She remembered driving in the dark and pouring rain, trying to blink in time with the windshield wipers so she could see the road ahead of her. Then, there were glaring lights, so bright she couldn’t look at them directly. And then . . . nothing. Absolutely nothing, until she woke up in the hospital. She lacked even the finest thread in the fabric of that memory, although she had a scar to prove that a surgery had happened to replace her liver. Nick had been at her bedside at the hospital too, of course, but he’d only ever recited the story that Grace and Basha had told him—he hadn’t known what had happened behind closed doors.

  “Maybe if you told me how she lied, it might inspire me.” Nadia waited, hoping her sister wouldn’t be able to resist slandering Basha. But Kaleena just turned her gaze out the window.

  “Our grandmother is a selfish old crone who deserves every ounce of misfortune that comes her way, and she’s been slithering free of responsibility for so long. It’s finally time for her to pay for all the misery she’s caused,” Kaleena said, with unsettling calm.

  Miles leaned between the seats. “Have you ever tried therapy?”

  “Get moving,” Kaleena retorted, taking the child lock off the back doors. “Any inane questions you have about our, frankly, hysterical family history, I’m sure Nadia will answer them on the way to the house. Although, since you’ve met Grace and Basha, you’ve probably gotten the gist. And maybe Basha will answer some of your questions while you’re in there, Nadia. But don’t let your curiosity get in the way of the mission. I won’t accept failure.”

  What if I don’t like what I hear? Nadia wasn’t Basha’s biggest fan right now, but in the tug-of-war between her sister and grandmother, she still wasn’t sure where she stood. While part of her had a fragile hope that this “secret” might be a lie, Kaleena would never set something up without knowing there’d be a payoff.

  “You’ll get what you asked for,” Nadia said as she got out of the car.

  Stealing back something that had belonged to Kaleena seemed like a fair price to pay to stay breathing and get closer to bringing Nick back, and it wasn’t like Kaleena had asked her to hurt anyone to get it. The house, and Basha’s protective wish, would ensure that things didn’t turn violent. It would be a quick in-and-out stealth job. No harm, no foul.

  Still, the “getting in” part bothered her. What if the house, and Basha, stuck up a dismissive middle finger, rendering the mission a dud before they’d even begun?

  Out on the sidewalk, Nadia dug her hands into her pockets and set off at a casual pace, resisting the urge to glance back over her shoulder at Kaleena. She knew it was pointless, but part of her wanted to see some glimpse of fear, or nostalgia, or sadness, or . . . something on her sister’s face other than anger and resentment. Instead, she focused on the path ahead, with Miles drawing parallel at her side, his arms tucked into his sweatshirt pouch like it was a muff.

  “Are you pissed at me for using your wish?” Nadia muttered, listening to every beat of her footsteps.

  Miles laughed. “There’s so much to be pissed off about, man, that everything has sort of canceled everything else out. Right now, I’m feeling pretty zen.”

  “I’m sorry I dragged you into this by stealing your wish in the first place. Really sorry, actually,” she murmured.

  He nudged her in the arm. “Hey, you’ve got a messed-up family—that was bound to give your social graces a hit.”

  Nadia chuckled wryly as she watched the sidewalk pass underfoot, counting down the flagstones until she reached the gates of the Kaminski Mansion.

  “Man, there’s so much more I want to know about this whole wishing world,” Miles said, then puffed out a breath. “Later, we’re sitting down with some port, and you’re going to give me the whole thing—studio outtakes, B sides, and all. Fair?”

  She nodded. “If there is a later.”

  “You think we’re going to get booted out on our asses again?” He cast her an anxious look.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. My babcia could win medals in stubbornness.” Nadia cricked her neck, trying to relieve some of the gathering tension.

  Miles chuckled, but it faded as quickly as it had emerged. “Will you tell me what my wish got spent on? Your sister threw some bones during her planning lecture, but no one stopped to explain what she meant by you being able to spy on people.”

  “I’ll give you the details later,” Nadia promised. “For now, just know that it involves my body and my mind . . . separating. Kind of like astral projection into somebody else’s body. I’ll probably need to use it in there, so be ready for some weirdness when it comes. Apparently, I start wandering around and acting like a robotic version of myself.”

  Miles raised an eyebrow. “That does sound freaky. But I’ll try to make sure your body doesn’t get stuck in any corners or something.”

  Reaching the black wrought-iron gates, Nadia paused with her hand on the metal. The syrupy air smelled of incoming rain. Swollen gray clouds stampeded across the early-evening sky, mimicking the onset of night as it darkened the world around them to an unnerving sepia. Her exhaustion finally caught up to her, weighing down her steps. The morning’s icy plunge into the Savannah River felt like it had happened a month ago.

  Nadia pushed open the gate, and they walked along the garden path, trampling the perennial weeds that slunk up through the stones to taste the sunlight. Drawing in a deep breath, she climbed the porch steps and passed the rickety love seat that swung in the warm breeze as though a phantom couple nestled together, waiting for the rain to fall.

  She knocked on the door, not daring to try her key. Like a vampire, she needed an invitation. It was the only way to reset the house’s rejection protocols, and that permission had to come from one of the Kaminski family members already inside.

  A few moments later, footfalls approached. Nadia’s muscles seized up as she feared it’d be Basha. After everything her sister had said about the car accident, and the potential lies she’d
been drip-fed, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to see the old woman just yet.

  The door creaked open, and the orange porch light shone on Grace’s tired, makeup-free face, revealing every wrinkle, every mole, every fine crease in her pursed lips. It took Nadia a second to realize it was actually her, since her mom never left her bedroom without her war paint on.

  Grace’s expression morphed into one of shock, then her features crumpled into a mask of relief. “My girl . . . You came back. Thank the Wishing Tree, you came back. Get in here, sweetheart! Get your blessed backside in here!”

  Grace opened the door wider and yanked Nadia into the house. Miles lunged for Nadia’s hand, clearly worried he might be left outside if he didn’t stay connected. As their skin touched, Nadia waited for the fizz of her spying ability to jump between them, but it didn’t come.

  So, it’s a one-time reaction. One touch and the connection is made. Nadia couldn’t dwell on it for long as Grace threw her arms around her and held her tight, stroking her hair and swaying her from side to side as though they’d been apart for months. Nadia let go of Miles’s hand and put her arms around her mom, unable to resist the temptation of a motherly hug.

  “I thought that was it,” Grace murmured, pulling away. “I thought both my sweet girls were gone forever.”

  Nadia tried not to snort at the idea of Kaleena being a “sweet girl,” but her mother’s genuine concern filled her with a welcome warmth. “I wouldn’t let things end like that between us, Mom. Really.”

  “I’ve been going out of my mind,” Grace continued, solely focused on Nadia, as if she hadn’t even realized Miles was there. “About fifty times, I’ve put on my jacket and gotten my keys, ready to head out and find you. But your babcia insisted on us staying put for safety. You know how she is.”

  As though that was some blanket excuse? It was one vital point that Nadia told her clients time and time again—that the only way to move forward and make reparations was to accept responsibility for past dick moves. Making excuses stunted any future growth, yet Nadia had taken it as gospel for years that her grandma could be forgiven for just about anything because “you know how she is.”

  Well, not today.

  Nadia took her mom’s hands and gave them a squeeze, immediately feeling the electric spark of a mental connection jumping between them. The fishbowl lens distorted the grand entrance hall and made Grace’s eyes bulge like a treefrog before Nadia blinked away the weirdness. As long as she didn’t think of Grace, she wouldn’t wind up inside her head. At least, she hoped those were the parameters, though she still hadn’t had much time to experiment.

  “Where is she?” Nadia asked flatly.

  Grace dropped her gaze. “Upstairs, sleeping. I think the past couple of days have tuckered her out.”

  Nadia bit back a scathing retort.

  With an alarmed gasp, Grace hurried to cover her face. “I wish I’d known you were bringing company, Nadia. I’m out here naked-faced, looking like worn-out leather, with lips as pale as my bare behind.”

  Miles laughed awkwardly. “You don’t look any different to me.”

  “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.” Grace kept hold of Nadia’s hand, behaving a bit more soberly than usual. “Now, why don’t we stop loitering around the door like we aren’t staying, hmm?” Grace glanced nervously up at the curving stairwell. “Let’s shimmy on through to the kitchen—get you both feeling right back at home with some snacks and a drink.”

  Grace grabbed Miles’s hand and tugged the pair of them away from the entrance hall, through the left-hand doorway that led into the kitchen-slash-den. All the while, Grace kept glancing at the staircase, as though expecting Basha to appear at any moment. Nadia shared her fear. No amount of rehearsal or preparation could ready her for facing her grandma and the questions that called for some serious answers.

  “Settle yourselves down! You’re not in court. Don’t stand on ceremony,” Grace insisted.

  She ushered them around the partition wall toward the comfy, well-loved sofas in the den—the same sofas that rested right in front of the blackboard bearing the chalk scratches of the Kaminski debt. Nadia was almost overcome by the sudden urge to erase every tally, as if that would let her regain the years she’d spent paying back a debt that wasn’t hers.

  Eyeing one another, Nadia and Miles did as they were told, sinking down onto the largest sofa with perfect, stiff synchronicity. They tipped closer together, thanks to the aging dip in the middle of the squishy cushions, sitting there like clueless teenagers who were in each other’s rooms for the first time.

  Meanwhile, Grace barreled around the kitchen, tore packets out of the cupboards, and wrenched them open, cascading them into waiting bowls. Nadia spied potato chips, pretzel bites, and salted nuts—she could only imagine the incoming jokes. Though she had no intention of eating, her stomach growled. When was the last time she’d eaten anything? Her mom hurriedly set out two glasses, pouring white wine into both. Then she yanked open the refrigerator door and plucked out a ready-made margarita.

  Nadia gave Miles a discreet elbow in the ribs, as if to say, You know not to drink that, right?

  He nodded in reply, but that didn’t mean they were out of the woods. Now that Nadia had a spent wish, she couldn’t trust anyone, not even her own mom, when it came to taking drinks she hadn’t prepared herself. She couldn’t have the wishing bark infusion dampening her spying abilities, especially right now.

  Grace carried everything over like a waitress and laid the food and drinks out on the low, scuffed table in front of the sofa. She scooted in right next to Miles.

  “I remember you liked your wine dry, Miles,” she said, handing the glass to him. “Nadia will drink anything. She’s like her mom that way. Though we both love our margaritas, don’t we?”

  Nadia eyed her mom warily. Where were the lewd jokes and the flirtations? “Are you feeling all right?”

  “It’s been a tough few days for us all. I can tell that you haven’t been getting much sleep.” Grace gulped down a mouthful of margarita while Nadia waited for the obvious quip that didn’t come. Instead, her mom seemed pensive. “Did you have a friend to stay with? I haven’t slept a wink either, and not because I hit the jackpot.”

  Nadia picked up her wine glass and pretended to take a sip. “I spent the night with Miles.” Her stomach lurched as she realized what she’d said. “I mean, I crashed at his place. He let me stay over, in my own bedroom. He’s got, like, a million rooms.”

  “Made sure to give you the one with the best view too,” Miles added.

  Grace looked between the two of them and then turned to Nadia. “And here I was, thinking you were flicking through channels and guzzling down dinner from a vending machine, when you were being spoiled rotten by a rock star.” She jiggled excitedly. “Tell me more. How was it?”

  Miles grinned. “We got a little tipsy. I showed her my art collection.”

  “I bet you did, you sly devil!” Grace cackled, while Nadia simmered with utter embarrassment. Miles seemed to be taking a tiny slice of revenge for having his wish stolen.

  “I have an enormous art collection,” Miles purred, thoroughly enjoying himself. “It might be the biggest in Savannah, and I ain’t being modest.”

  Grace gave him a playful smack in the arm and glanced at Nadia. “Is that why you look so tired, honey? Were you up all night, staring at his ‘art collection’ and having a good time?” A forced, too-bright smile curved up her lips, as though she wanted to believe her daughter had been all right, instead of the alternative.

  “I drank because I got kicked out of the house, and I crashed at his place because I had nowhere to go and no friends to call,” Nadia muttered. How could her mom be so blasé, acting like everything was peachy? Did Grace somehow suspect that Nadia had ulterior motives for being here? She tried to study her mom’s expression for any hint of suspicion, but Grace’s reactions seemed genuine.

  “Well, that’s awful nice of you, Miles. I c
ould tell you were a good soul the moment you came through the door. Thank you for taking care of my girl.” Grace’s cheer evaporated, her cheeks reddening. “So, does that mean the Wishmaster didn’t come for you, then? I’ve been fretting like a wild thing, thinking the Wishmaster might have taken everything out on you. But you’re here, and you seem to be in one piece, and . . .” She trailed off with a stifled hiccup.

  A painful silence followed as Grace turned her face away and pretended to look at a snagged thread on a nearby cushion, but Nadia knew she was trying not to cry. Her mom could put on a brave face better than anyone, yet it had to have stung, knowing she could’ve stood up to Basha and sided with Nadia, but she’d been too afraid of getting her own ass kicked out. Maybe she didn’t suspect anything was amiss with Nadia after all, and was only trying to make amends with her forced cheerfulness.

  A slow tap-tap splintered through the uncomfortable quiet, followed by the disconcerting shuffle of slippered feet. Nadia turned toward the kitchen door, which was just visible past the partition wall. The entire house seemed to tense, the air so thick it threatened to choke her.

  Basha had arrived.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Nadia tried to slow her angry breaths as Basha stopped beneath the arch that separated the kitchen and den. Her grandmother wore the same haughty expression she always did, never acknowledging the hurt she’d caused—the lies about the debt, the constant piling on of guilt, the way she’d kicked Nadia out of the house without remorse. What could Nadia possibly say to the person who had torn her family apart? Well, she had to take the high road now and pretend everything was just fine. At least until this mission was over.

  Basha’s keen eyes homed in on Grace, narrowing with displeasure. “Why you let this traitor into house?” she hissed, spit flying with every word.

  Nadia forced herself to remain stone-faced and silent. Miles shifted in his seat beside her, probably not all that excited to have a front-row seat to another potential family screaming match.